Somewhere In Haiti (a poem)

Sitting on a rusting red chair under shelter in the pouring tropical rain. Confined to a 15 foot space for multiple days. I was awaken last night as my husband jumped from bed at the sound of a falling coconut.

Somewhere in Haiti.

Reflecting back to that shower of gun fire in the middle of the night lighting up the sky just yards from our house. Realizing that the blood bath had begun in our village. The men jumping up, locking doors, and dimming lights.

It was somewhere in Haiti.

We had a life and a home under construction. A plan to raise our children here. Our village was safe compared to surrounding villages overrun by gangs. We could go out at night, sleep on our porch, and walk by the river. Shootings and arsonry were distant news for us.

It all used to be somewhere else in Haiti.

Many people heard the news and wished to rush us home. They are afraid. Our family here is afraid. So much fear and little comfort. Every day is a risk. But I’m not ready to leave because I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back.

To somewhere in Haiti.

I can’t help but wish for our life back. Wish that all the beautiful memories I’ve made in ministry and life abroad could have lasted forever. I can’t help but pray for things to get better, for this place to be beautiful once more. Because despite it all, this is where I want to be.

Somewhere in Haiti.

It looks bleak. It feels hopeless. The darkness is growing darker. The burning sun seems to be dimming. Nowhere is safe. But I have to believe that this isn’t over. I don’t know why God has allowed these things, but I know there is a plan for all of this.

We’ve waited so long for a change. Yet, we keep on waiting because it’s all that we can do. If He is who He says He is, He can’t forsake Haiti forever. He can’t look away forever and won't stand by forever.

HE WILL COME… to this place called Haiti.

In grief and longing we wait for Him.